


Mind Games ➸ Bette Kane

by orphan_account



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Feels, Other, This is really dark, Young Justice - Freeform, another apprentice au, owo, what is joy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I needed you, and you never came. Why should I ever help you?"in which revenge is the driving force behind everything.





	1. Z E R O

**THE** **SMALL** **BLONDE** looked down at the villains from her high perch in the rafters. Bat-Girl had hit the mother load: Sportsmaster, Deathstroke, Bane and Talon, all in the same place, all _unmasked_. This was huge. It was massive, world changing. This was a chance for the good guys to put away some of the worst guys. Bette, however, saw it as her one and only chance to prove herself as a hero. How would Robin ever be able to ignore her if she brought the Justice League this mother load of intel? It would be impossible.

 

 

 

For all her smarts- and the girl did have a lot of them-, she was too caught up in her excitement to remember that down below her were four of the world's deadliest hired help. So when she let out the slightest excited squeal, one of them was bound to notice. That one decided not to mention it to the other three. Whoever was there would stay until the meeting was over. With any luck, it would be the Bird. Take the Bird from the Bat, and you leave him crippled. It's funny how so little people would ever realize that if you took Bette Kane from Batwoman, she would be crippled too.

The man who noticed Bette was one of the few people to accept this as a fact.

 

 

 

Bat-Girl stayed silent, observing the conversation. She was blissfully unaware that she had already been caught and was too busy planning what she was going to wear on her and Robin's first date. What? Bette wasn't stupid. She had to impress him, then keep on doing it. Whilst the girl was sure she and the hero were soulmates, Robin might need more convincing on that fact, especially if his recent behavior was anything to go by. If only Robin would just see her the way she saw him. Then, maybe, things would work out better. She needed Robin to notice her. He had to.

"They hired you to kill the Bat?" Sportsmaster scoffed. "You don't stand a chance."

"Bane has broken the Bat once before. Who is to say he won't finish the job next time?" Talon calmly input.

The man in question turned to the other mercenary in the room, Deathstroke The Terminator. "Do you have any input, Wilson?"

Deathstroke smirked under his mask. "We should finish this conversation elsewhere. You never know when a Bat might be creeping around in Gotham."

Bette cursed under her breath. If that wasn't him implying that he knew she was there, she didn't know what was. Quietly, Bette started to leave as fast as she could without making a noise. One wrong move, and she would be as good as dead. Probably worse, if they caught her. Experience had taught her that villains liked to torture members of the Batfamily before killing them. Experience was a bitch to have sometimes.

 

 

 

Just as Bette reached the skylight, she felt a hand grasp on her ankle. Gulping, she looked down to see Deathstroke's gloved hand gripping her limb tightly. Before she could stop it, she had summarized the situation aloud.

"I am unbelievably doomed."

"Most definitely."

Bette pouted. "Still gonna kick you in the face."

True to her word, Bat-Girl's foot smashed into Deathstroke's face, and she went tumbling into a roll. Landing, she drew her array of birdarrangs and started to fling them at the villain, distracting him as she pressed the distress signal on her utility belt. If she could just hold off a little longer, then Aunt Kate, or maybe even Batman, would come crashing into the warehouse. So long as that happened, she wouldn't die. Well, at least that's what Bette was hoping for.

 

 

The fight was a lost cause to begin with. Bette was a thirteen year old girl, small for her size, and with only four years of training under her belt. Deathstroke was over forty years old, a huge ball of muscle and strength, with years worth of experience, so much so that he could beat Batman in a fight. Bette consoled herself to with the thought that maybe only Black Canary could beat the assassin. It was pretty much the only positive thing that came to mind as she slammed her shoulder against a crate to pop it back into place. Yeah, the Bat-Girl was not good enough to win this fight under any circumstances.  
  


 

A faint ringing dinged around her skull as Bette tried to sit up. She couldn't. Wincing, she attempted to take an inventory of her remaining supplies. There was nothing left in her utility belt, nothing left in her secret compartments, not even the knives in her gloves. This was not so whelming. Bette took a shuddering breath in as she realized that she was going to die. Bat-Girl was going to die for not being stealthy enough. Bette Kane was going to die for trying to be a superhero when she has no training. And people say the good guys win every battle in the end. Don't you just love those lies that get your hopes up right before they're stamped away presumably dragging your life along with them? They're the absolute best.

 

 

Deathstroke stood over the hero's crumpled body. She has fought well, he supposed, for someone with so little training. The one truly notable thing though, was the fact that as it came down to the end of the battle, Bat-Girl started to use more... lethal force. Instead of ignoring the vital areas that could kill a man, she had focused on them.

Maybe, just maybe, Robin wasn't the one he should be looking at to be his apprentice.  
  


**∞∞∞∞∞∞**

The majority of the Justice League were present when the systems were hacked. A holo-screen appeared, and on it was a small, blonde child, her usually soft haired heavily matted to her scalp with sweat. The cheerful red and yellow costume she wore now had dark stains where the blood from her wounds had seeped through. It was sick and disturbing, but there was nothing more scarring than when the sound was activated, and the girl's screams could be heard throughout the Watchtower.  
  


 

 

The blonde's eyes gazed upwards and her eyes flickered with recognition as she laid eyes on Black Canary. She supposed that this was the closest she would come to ever meeting her hero. Pushing that thought far away, to the back of her mind, where such dismal thoughts were stored and stacked upon each other, Bette focused on the one thing she was capable of: getting justice for herself.

Her breathing heavy, the girl started to choke out a name. "Sla- Slade. Sl-"

The rest of her sentence was lost to a high pitched screen that tore its way up her throat. Now embedded in her knee, a knife sent reams of pain coursing up and down her leg.

"Not asterous", she whimpered. Black spots danced across her vision, but she pushed against him, because that was the zeta tube announcing Aunt Kate's arrival. She couldn't black out, not when her aunt was here. That would be unimaginably cruel. What if she thought Bette was dead? No, Bat-Girl was not giving up that easily. Batwoman would be able to survive this, and if she could, then so could her protege. Bette was positive of that. Well, she strongly believed that before the knife was lodged in her chest, puncturing a lung. Then Bette was positive that if Kate could survive this, then Kate sure as heck wasn't human.  
  


 

 

Batwoman let out a sudden shout of rage as she watched her niece be tortured. She never should have brought Bette into this, she should have made sure that Bette lived a normal and happy life. Now Bette wasn't going to live any life. She was going to die, and there was nothing the Justice League could do to stop it.

Deathstroke walked in front of the camera, revealing himself.

"This", he taunted, gesturing at Bette's frail and broken body, "is why children shouldn't be sent to fight crime."

Kate lunged forwards, ready to smash the place that Deathstroke's face was in. Wonder Woman grabbed her, stopping her from moving. Still Kate struggled, her sobs blocking out the villain's taunts. He was right though. Crime fighting wasn't a place for children.  
  
  


 

The screen cut out, and Kate escaped Diana's grasp with a sharp elbow to the face.

"No!" She shrieked, turning to her cousin. "Bruce, help her! What are you doing? Why are you all just standing there? Bette needs help!"

Batwoman was in hysterics at this point, tears rolling down her cheeks. She rushed to the computer, pulling up multiple programs, and she saw Bruce start to work beside her.

"We'll find her, Kate", he promised, seemingly breaking out of his shock. What happened to Bette was sickening, and Kate would be damned if she let it happen ever again.  
  


 

 

Five months later, after a mutilated blonde corpse was found in a ditch outside of Wayne Manor, the Justice League gave up on their search, much to anger of Batman and Batwoman.

At the same time Mary Elisabeth Kane woke up to her usual, grueling routine in her own personal hell.

 _Someday,_ _I'_ _ll escape, Kate. He's not going to win. I won't let him, I promise._


	2. P A R T 1

**_ PART ONE: _ **

**Don't** **You** **Know** **We** **Could** **Be** **A** **New** **Beginning?**

 _in which_ _her hope has curdled into rage._

**∞∞∞∞∞∞**

_**"You, Robin, Batman...** _ _**Bratgirl** _ _**... you've managed to let two of your family die. Tell me,** _ _** Batwoman ** _ _**, how does it make you feel to know you've failed another child? Are you happy that yet another one was tortured to death?"** _

_**"Who the hell are you?"** _

_**"I'm your worst fucking nightmare.** _ **_"_ **


	3. O N E

**TEARS** **STARTED** **TO** **FILL** her eyes as she looked at Mount Justice's security feed. The girl watched as some ginger bitch walked out of a zeta tube, Nightwing and Troia at her side.

"Son of a bitch", the blonde growled, glaring at the screen.

When her "master" has told her that Batwoman had a new protege, Bette tried to deny it. Kate would never replace her. At least, that's what she had thought, before seeing a ginger girl, Barbara, strutting around with a bat symbol blazened across her chest. It was infuriating, to say the least. That was Bette's mantle, Bette's goddamn legacy. The role of Bat-Girl belonged to Bette Kane, and Bette Kane only. It didn't matter if the hyphen was gone. That actually annoyed the blonde more. 

 

 

Was her idea of a name not good enough? Maybe she was never good enough. Maybe that's why the Justice League never came looking for her. Maybe that's why her own family seemingly moved past her death like it was nothing. Even Dick Grayson and Donna Troy, her supposed best friends, appeared unaffected. From Bette's perspective, no one cared. No one, except for the bastard that made everyone she loved believe she was dead. Oh, what a cruel and twisted world it was.

 

 

Bette sighed angrily. She didn't cry, wouldn't cry; crying was a luxury, one she would never be able to afford. That didn't stop the pain though. If anything, it only grew as she shoved her emotions under a thick layer of blank stares and dull eyes. A little bit of her thought wistfully at the time when she thought crying was okay. She really wasn't too wise back then. Now, she knew that every emotion you show can and will be used against you. Now, she was aware that getting attached to anything could only ever result in heartbreak and pain. People were assholes, and there was nothing else she had to know.

 

 

Instead of her anger going down, allowing her to be calm, it grew like a violent storm. Soon, she found her left hand shaking slightly, and a sick, twisting feeling swelling in her stomach. Being angry wasn't a good feeling, but the adrenaline rush that joined it was amazing, in Bette's opinion. When she was honest with herself, Bette admitted that the rush that came with saving people was the main reason she was a hero. It was more addictive than any drug she had ever come across. Bette, in her new alias of Flamebird, had come across a lot of drugs. Some were used on her, some she used on others, some just sat patiently in her utility belt. Well, only one did that, and that was only for an absolute emergency. Although, in a way, this was an absolute emergency. After all, hadn't being replaced chipped away slightly at Bette's ego? Nothing was allowed to hurt her ego; it was like her child.

 

 

After one year of fighting non stop, Bette had finally accepted her role. She was to be the apprentice to a psychopath, and that was honestly a lot nicer than what she had been. She had been a punching bag for him. All because she was weak, unprepared, impulsive. Now, though, now Bette was in control. She wasn't weak, far from it. Her fighting skills had improved so much. Hell, she almost beat Slade in a fight once, and she destroyed Grant every time they sparred. Or every time he was pining. Now Bette understood why Nightwing got so annoyed with her when he was Robin and she was Bat-Girl. Having someone infatuated with you, but not returning the feelings, is awkward. It does get considerably more awkward when you factor in all that had happened to the blonde, but she didn't like to think of that. Sometimes, Bette would get mad about it. But he did it to toughen her up, right? She couldn't really blame Deathstroke for wanting an apprentice that was powerful and unbreakable, both mentally and physically. Although, there was always a small part of her that was in outrage, screaming in the back of her mind. Bette liked to push that part of her away. Pretending nothing was wrong was the only thing that kept Bette going.

 

 

Silently, Flamebird pushed the door of the compound open. The night air was crisp and cold, a pleasant sensation on her burning face. Being trained by Deathstroke was not something for anyone with low stamina. There was hours of it, almost unending, unless there was a mission to go on. In all honesty, Bette kind of hated that. She was used to being the high class socialite that everyone flocked to, the one who's schedule was filled with parties and galas, not punching and stabbing. Even though she never said it aloud, Bette would have given anything to be at one of the dumb Wayne Galas, hiding in the kitchen with Dick and possibly Barbara and Donna. She'd give anything to have one of Alfred's cookies and to listen to one of his stories from Britain. The one remaining piece of reason within her would have given her life just to be shouted at by Aunt Kate for messing up on a mission. At least Kate only yelled.

 

 

A soft laugh of joy escaped Bette's mouth as she grappled from building to building, jumping roof to roof. People who had never flown before were really missing out. It was fun, amazing, exhilarating. The feeling when you soar through the air, that moment right before you grapple to the next skyscraper, is exhilarating. You don't know if you'll fall or fly, you just know that the rush of energy is a whole other level of perfection. At least, this is what Bette thought as she flew through the Gotham skies, a smile spread wide across her face. This was the one perfect thing that no one would ever be able to take from her.

 

 

It was nearing midnight, and Bette was on top of Wayne Enterprises, dressed in her Flamebird costume. Once Red Arrow had been ousted as a clone, the Light were looking to get a new spy in the team of young heroes. Deathstroke had offered Bette up as a candidate, and the Light agreed. Training had increased massively, with different fighters coming in every day, leaving Bette covered in bruises every night. It was finally over though. The plan was going to be activated and the heroes wouldn't know what hit them. Maybe they would finally understand that Mary Elisabeth Kane was not someone to underestimated or replaced. Mary Elisabeth Kane was one to be feared, and no one, not even her Batwoman, could change that. Unfortunately, Bette had never considered the fact that Donna Troy and Richard Grayson were exceptionally stubborn when it came to their friends.

Then again, Bette also didn't consider spending the rest of her night smashing a robot's face in, but things just happen.

 


End file.
